"That man over there is actually Maeterlinck!" I kept
assuring myself. "I am looking at Maeterlinck! Now
he nods the head in which 'The Bluebird' was conceived.
Now he lifts his beer glass in the hand which indited
' Monna Vanna!'"

Nor was my amazement due entirely to the surprise
of meeting a much-admired man. It was due, most of
all, to a feeling which I must have had--although I was
never before conscious of it--a feeling that no such
man as Maeterlinck existed in reality; that he was
a purely legendary being; a figure in white robes
and sandals, harping and singing in some Elysian
temple.

I experienced a somewhat similar emotion in Chicago
on being introduced to Hinky Dink. In saying that, I
do not mean to be irreverent. I only mean that I had
always thought of Hinky Dink as a fictitious personage.
He and his colleague, Bathhouse John, have figured in
my mind as a pair of absurd, imaginary figures, such as
might have been invented by some whimsical son of a
comic supplement like Winsor McCay.

Now, as I soon discovered, the Hinky Dink of the
newspapers is, as a matter of fact, to a large extent fic-
titious. He is a legend, built up out of countless comic
stories and newspaper cartoons. The real Hinky Dink
-otherwise Aldemian Michael Kenna--is a very dif-
ferent person, for whatever may be said against him
--and much is--he is a very real human being.

-174-